3rd Sunday of Easter 2020
Acts 2:14: 22-28; 1 Peter 1: 17-21; Luke 24: 13-35
I loved the previous missal’s translation of the opening prayer of today’s Mass. It ran “God our Father, may we look forward with hope to our resurrection, for you have made us your sons and daughters and restored the joy of our youth”.
“You have restored the joy of our youth.” In other words, you have made us young again. It reminds me of a verse in the Latin translation of Psalm 42, the psalm which used to open the Tridentine rite of Mass: “Introibo ad altare Dei. Ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam.” “I will go in to the altar of God. To God who gives joy to my youth.”
The resurrection makes us young again, and gives us joy. Indeed, it makes us neonates, as Our Lord told Nicodemus in last Monday’s Gospel, informing him of the need to be born again, whilst the 1st Letter of St. Peter tells us that we are, indeed, new born.
We are new born, we are infants, we are young lads and lasses, with the world as our oyster, able to run and jump and, especially, laugh again, at least mentally and spiritually. I find that concept especially attractive, having just celebrated one of those birthdays with a nought in it. I really fancy having the joy of my youth restored.
And remember, that youth isn’t a matter of years: it is a matter of attitude. I have met youngsters in their 80s and 90s, still young because still interested, still enthusiastic. On the other hand I have met little old men and little old women in their teens, grown old before their time, because they knew everything, or because they found everything BORING! Please God they may have grown younger as they grew older; which brings to mind an old advertisement for a Scottish brewery, which featured an old man with a long beard and a twinkling eye, supping his pint under the slogan “Get YOUNGER every day”.
One youngster whom I particularly recall was Kate, who, I would estimate, was in her late 70s or early 80s when I was at St. Mary’s, Morecambe. Every day, Kate would bounce into church for 12-15pm Mass. She would genuflect to the Blessed Sacrament, bow to the altar, and then turn and stick her tongue out at her fellow worshippers.
At one stage, Kate went into Nazareth House for respite care. “How are you Kate?” I asked. “Well, compared to some of these in here I feel like Zola Budd,” was the reply, referring to the current teenaged prodigy of the athletics world. Kate also recounted two conversations she’d had with a girl on the staff.
Learning that this lass was a Catholic, Kate had asked her if she went to Mass. “No,” had been the reply, “but I believe in God.”
“That’s all very well” rejoined Kate. “You believe in your granny, but if she lived in the next street, you would go to visit her, not just believe in her.”
A week or so later, Kate encountered this same staff member again. “Have you been to Mass yet?” “No,” was the quick response, “but I’ve been to see my granny.” Kate felt that this was a reasonable start.
Kate’s greatest joy was to receive Our Lord in Holy Communion, and one of her happiest moments came when the Church permitted the laity to receive communion at every Mass they attended, instead of limiting them to once per day. This meant for Kate that, on her regular visits to Boarbank, she could receive Jesus three times a day: she would say to Him “I’ve got you now!” and indulge in deep conversation with Him.
Which brings us to today’s Gospel, and the encounter between the Risen Christ and the Emmaus disciples. What does Jesus do? He celebrates Mass with them. The first part of the Mass, the Liturgy of the Word, takes place on the journey, as He explains the scriptures to them, “breaking the word” as we say: the second part, the Liturgy of the Eucharist, in the house, where He breaks the bread which has become His Body, before disappearing, since He is now present in the broken bread.
Thus, from its very beginnings, the Church has been rooted in the Eucharist, “the source and summit of the Christian life” as the Second Vatican Council expressed it. That is why Catholics are grieving their current inability to attend Mass, but rejoicing that they can follow Mass online, and so make a spiritual communion. Without the sacramental encounter with Christ, part of ourselves is lacking: without the Eucharistic Christ, we struggle to stay young.
